


Allez

by neveralarch



Series: Attaque Composée [6]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sports, Bad Sex Becoming Good Sex, Fencing, M/M, Rough Sex, Safeword Use, Sort Of, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: "Starscream?" Wheeljack touched Starscream's cheek. "What's that look about?"Starscream jerked his optics up to meet Wheeljack's. "Nothing. Just thinking about how much I want you."Wheeljack and Starscream's first time. Eventually. It's not so easy, not for them.(A side story from the Transformers fencing AU.)





	Allez

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neery/gifts).



> This fic is part of the [Attaque Composée](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1026729) series, and in particular takes place before/during/after [Passé](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18600082). It's meant to be read with the events of that fic in mind.
> 
> This fic contains kissing, consensual but unenthusiastic sex, alcohol, drunk sex, safeword use, rough sex, and brief discussions of a past abusive relationship. Please let me know if you need details. Please also note that none of the events or characters in this fic are meant to depict events or persons in real life, and the characters' thoughts are not always my own. 
> 
> Thanks to [Neery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neery/pseuds/Neery) for suggesting a fic about Starscream and Wheeljack's first time! Also thanks to [DesdemonaKaylose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaKaylose/pseuds/DesdemonaKaylose) for reading earlier versions of this fic and providing much-needed suggestions.

They were kissing. Wheeljack liked kissing, because it was easy. Limited variables, and fairly consistent output. Wheeljack just had to keep his mask warm to the touch and maintain a firm pressure against Starscream's lips. They'd been doing a lot of kissing since the last Grand Prix, in hotel rooms like this one, and Wheeljack's messy apartment, and even once in Starscream's office at the club when all of the fencers were gone.

Wheeljack wasn't sure where Starscream lived. Was that weird? Should he know Starscream's address at this point? It felt like they were pretty serious, but maybe ‘knows your living situation’ was a deeper level of intimacy for Starscream.

Starscream made a little humming noise and curled his hands over Wheeljack's shoulders, pressing his talons into the seams. Wheeljack could feel the sharp talon tips brushing against his wiring, and warm charge spread from Wheeljack's spark to his pelvis. Wheeljack carefully squeezed Starscream's waist, which usually got a good reaction. Starscream hummed again and managed to get his fingers further into Wheeljack's shoulders.

So far, so good. Wheeljack had gotten this far through a lot of trial and error, paying close attention to Starscream's reactions. Starscream liked sitting in Wheeljack's lap or straddling Wheeljack's waist, preferably on a berth. Starscream liked looming over Wheeljack, making Wheeljack crane his neck back to look at him. Starscream liked a slow, gentle pace, with Wheeljack's hands on him but not constricting him. 

Wheeljack wished he had more experience with relationships. He'd hooked up plenty of times, usually after tournaments, usually after drinking. Sideswipe had been a fun fragbuddy, up until Wheeljack realized Sideswipe was more interested in beating the Decepticons than he was in good fencing. Just like everyone else Wheeljack had used to call a friend.

But Wheeljack didn't get drunk around Starscream anymore. Not since the last Grand Prix. And he couldn't ask any of his old friends about how to treat Starscream right, not if he wanted a serious answer. He just had to keep up the trial and error, see what worked and what didn't. He’d learned to lay on the berth, wait for Starscream to come to him, stretch his neck cables afterward when Starscream wasn’t looking.

It was working, this time around. It helped that Starscream had started out in a good mood. The tournament had gone well—Windblade had won, you couldn’t do much better than that. The hotel berth was soft against Wheeljack’s back, and Starscream was a solid weight on Wheeljack’s legs. Wheeljack onlined one optic to check whether Starscream was still enjoying himself. Yes, Starscream's face was smooth and his optics were offline, his mouth moving leisurely against Wheeljack's mask. It was time to take a risk. Just a small one, to establish a new boundary or (hopefully) open new territory. 

Wheeljack slowly shifted his hands toward Starscream's aft.

At the same time, Starscream extracted one hand from Wheeljack's shoulder and pressed it firmly against Wheeljack's pelvic plating.

Wheeljack yelped as a bolt of charge went straight through his circuits, his hands dropping away from Starscream’s plating.

Starscream flinched back, optics wide and vents speeding a little. "No?"

"Sorry, sorry." Wheeljack couldn't help but laugh. He'd been worried about touching Starscream's _aft_. So much for Starscream not being ready for a new level of intimacy. "You shocked me. Literally, your hand must be staticky from my shoulder."

"Oh." Starscream's hand hovered over Wheeljack's groin again. "Do you want to...?"

"Grope each other?" Wheeljack brushed his own hand over Starscream's thigh, watching Starscream's optics flicker unevenly. "Or connect?"

Starscream's mouth hardened, and his optics narrowed. "Connect."

Wheeljack did know _how_ to connect. He'd done that with his friends too, sending each other incomprehensible datastreams, light and airy with overcharge. But Wheeljack didn't know how to handle all the variables of making it good for Starscream. Especially when Starscream was still looking at Wheeljack with that odd expression, and his hand just barely not touching Wheeljack's plating.

Then Starscream grinned, bright and easy, and Wheeljack felt his worries melt away. "Come on,” Starscream purred. “I want you."

Wheeljack pressed his hips up, into Starscream's hand. It was still warm with charge, but Wheeljack didn’t shy away from the shock again. Instead he found himself bucking a little, suddenly desperate for contact. Starscream's wings swayed as he rode the movement, and his grin widened.

Wheeljack had made preliminary plans for connecting, maybe once the fencing season was over. He would clean his apartment, set out softly glowing crystals, and put on some music. He'd draw Starscream down into his berth, and tell Starscream exactly how much he wanted him and how happy it made him to see Starscream happy. 

The plans hadn't involved a bland hotel room and a bland hotel berth. Wheeljack quickly restrategized. This was about Starscream, what Starscream wanted.

Starscream leaned back and transformed his array. Plug above his socket, in the best orientation for a two-way connection. The lights around his socket were blinking neon blue, indicating that the connection software was already primed and ready. Wheeljack forgot his plans and in his strategy in favor of getting plugged in as soon as possible. Everything was trial and error anyway, there wasn't any point in trying to chart out all the possible actions.

Starscream tapped Wheeljack's cover impatiently and Wheeljack transformed his array into the reciprocal orientation. He nearly caught Starscream's fingers in the seam as he opened, but Starscream pulled back just in time. He didn’t seem offended, more amused. Wheeljack loved that smirk. He initiated his connection software, and the orange waiting light flickered across Starscream's face.

Now Starscream was looking down at Wheeljack's array with his lip caught between his teeth. Wheeljack fought the urge to follow his gaze. There was nothing wrong with his array. Someone would have definitely told him if there was something wrong with his array. Maybe the software was taking too long, making Wheeljack look like he didn't want to connect. Maybe Starscream was having second thoughts.

"Starscream?" Wheeljack touched Starscream's cheek. "What's that look about?"

Starscream jerked his optics up to meet Wheeljack's. "Nothing. Just thinking about how much I want you."

 _Oh_. Wheeljack's spark felt like it was melting. His array began to pulse blue. He leaned forward, bunting his mask against Starscream's lips and then pulling Starscream in by his waist, angling their arrays together to complete the connection. Starscream seemed uncharacteristically content to be moved, uncharacteristically still and patient in Wheeljack's lap. Maybe he was nervous. Maybe he was overcome with desire. Wheeljack wanted so much to get this right the first time.

Starscream's optics were dim, but his mouth was screwed up with concentration. His hips kept shifting under Wheeljack's hands, as if he wanted something but couldn't commit to it. As the tips of their prongs breached the sockets, Starscream's mouth opened. No sound came out.

"Starscream?" murmured Wheeljack.

Starscream arched his back and the connection deepened a little. The first tingles of charge started to flow, tentative teasing trickles. Wheeljack stroked a hand down Starscream's neck, and Starscream shivered.

"Starscream, does this feel good?" Wheeljack couldn't do this without data. He didn't understand the way Starscream was reacting.

Starscream nodded, but his optics were still dim and his hips were still shifting in those odd half-movements, like he was torn between pressing deeper and pulling away. Wheeljack experimentally allowed a slightly larger amount of charge to roll through his plug, and Starscream's mouth twisted up like he'd swallowed bad energon before his expression abruptly flattened out.

Wheeljack jerked away, disconnecting before any data could transfer.

Starscream's optics onlined and his talons dug painfully into Wheeljack's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Something's wrong." Wheeljack. "You shut down on me."

"I was waiting for you to finish connecting!" Starscream tried to pull Wheeljack into place again, but Wheeljack put his hand between them, covering his array.

"We don't have to do this," said Wheeljack. "It's fine if you—" He couldn't figure out how to finish that sentence. If Starscream wasn’t ready. If Starscream didn't want to connect. If Starscream didn't want to connect with _him_. 

"It's not fine!" Starscream looked furious. "I want this, I want to be with you."

"You are with me." Wheeljack's programming finally recognized he wasn't having sex and allowed him to transform his array and close his panel. "But if you're not having a good time, I'm not having a good time."

"I was having a good time!"

Wheeljack just looked at him. He knew what Starscream looked like when he was enjoying something—the little humming noises, the pinprick of talons. That blank silence hadn't been enjoyment.

"I _would_ have had a good time," amended Starscream. "Eventually. It's not your business, anyway." 

Wheeljack's spark went cold, and he sat up, dislodging Starscream from his lap. "It's not my business?"

"I wanted to connect with you, not conjunx." Starscream rose up on his knees, looming over Wheeljack with every micron of his greater height. "Why can't you just show some bearings and frag me? Why can't you just let me worry about myself?"

Wheeljack took a deep vent, and then another. And another. He got off the berth.

"Where are you going?" snapped Starscream. "Are you done already?"

"I need a break," said Wheeljack. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Where are you going?" repeated Starscream. He actually stood up on the berth, apparently unable to surrender the higher ground, swaying slightly as the berth shifted underneath him. "This is your room."

"Our room." Wheeljack shrugged. "I'll call Waspinator. Or maybe Windblade and Chromia have some floorspace, or—or whatever. But we can cool off and then talk about this tomorrow when you're not so upset."

" _Upset_?" hissed Starscream, and for a moment Wheeljack thought he should just leave now, before Starscream did something he'd regret. But Starscream just curled his talons into his palms and took a few deep vents, in through his front and out through his back.

"Forget it," said Starscream, at last. His panel shut with a loud snap. "I'm calling Thundercracker. I'll see you tomorrow at the coliseum."

"And we'll talk?" asked Wheeljack. They should have talked earlier. Before Starscream went from enjoying himself to this.

"Sure, whatever." Starscream jumped off the berth, hitting the floor with a thud that would probably make the people downstairs complain to the front desk. He didn't even stop in the small washrack before leaving, which meant he was either planning to come back later after all or he would spend most of the tournament complaining about Thundercracker's bad taste in polish.

The door closed.

Wheeljack sat back down on the berth and stayed there for a long time, waiting to see if Starscream would come back. Eventually he transitioned to lying on the berth and trying not to think about it.

What did Starscream want from him? If Wheeljack could just figure that out, everything would be okay.

\---

Starscream showed up to the tournament wearing a conservative matte polish that looked nice but was, according to Starscream, a polish for geriatrics and the painfully dull. Thundercracker kept looking at Wheeljack with an odd combination of annoyance and sympathy. Wheeljack hoped they would be okay for the veteran's team event at the next planetary event. He didn't particularly want to defend himself against both opponents and teammates. He didn't want to ruin Starscream's chance to compete again.

Step one was communication.

Wheeljack made four different plans for discussing the failed connection with Starscream, his processor ticking away on it whenever it could spare a few cycles from coaching. He didn't get to use any of them. If he even looked like he was going to bring up sex or relationships, Starscream simply walked away.

It was as if Starscream thought the problem would resolve itself, as if they could just keep moving forward without ever looking back.

They kept kissing, at least. After the tournament. In the transport home. In Wheeljack's messy apartment. Light, chaste kisses with only a hint of heat behind them. Sometimes Starscream would sit in Wheeljack's lap and squirm a little, like he wanted something but didn't want to ask for it. Wheeljack wasn't sure where that left him. He didn't know what to do if Starscream wouldn't talk to him.

The next youth grand prix was almost a relief, when it came. Starscream stayed with the club, because Windblade was in the middle of training for Cybertronian Champs. Wheeljack could travel alone, take the time to get his helm on straight.

Wheeljack enjoyed it for about half an orn, and then he realized he was actually miserable.

"If you stare at that any harder it's going to combust," said Sideswipe, who was probably regretting inviting Wheeljack to this bar. "You gotta _drink_ engex, Jackie."

Wheeljack took a sip. "Do you think I'm unattractive?"

"Uh," said Sideswipe, unhelpfully.

"Maybe I'm too... solid." Wheeljack found himself piecing together the thoughts he'd been trying to ignore ever since that night at the hotel had fallen apart. "The kind of mech you want at your back instead of between your thighs, you know?"

"Are you a poet, now?" Sideswipe peered at Wheeljack's face. "Is something going wrong with Screamer?"

Wheeljack felt an instinctive flash of annoyance at the nickname, but he shook it off. "I just want your honest opinion."

"Well," drawled Sideswipe, "I certainly wouldn't kick you out of the berth. I might even pop your panels tonight, only his royal screechiness would probably tear my fingers off for daring to touch you without his permission. Does that make you feel better?"

Wheeljack nodded and stared at his drink some more.

Sideswipe sighed. "Another mech ruined by Starscream. I hope he's worth it."

Wheeljack reached over and dumped his drink in Sideswipe's lap, and that _did_ make him feel better.

He got back to Metroplex the next orn. Starscream kissed him hello, but he didn’t say whether he’d missed Wheeljack. He didn’t say he was glad to have Wheeljack back.

\---

Wheeljack spent most of the veteran's team tournament worried. Worried they'd lose to someone in the early rounds and Starscream would be unhappy. Worried Starscream would finally burn his last bridge with the referee cadre, and Thundercracker wouldn't be able to smooth things over. Worried they'd fence Megatron.

But they did fence Megatron, and they lost, and the worst didn’t happen. Wheeljack was expecting a breakdown and/or attempted murder. Instead, Team Disqualified went to a bar. 

"Drink!" Skywarp plonked yet another virulently orange pitcher of high grade on the table before sliding back into the booth, crowding Thundercracker against the wall.

"Where do you keep getting those?" Thundercracker sipped his cocktail and pointedly ignored the glass Skywarp poured for him. "I thought this was a nice place."

"It is a nice place!" Starscream leaned across the table and dragged Thundercracker's neglected orange atrocity toward him. "Classy."

"Even classy bartenders will make Cosmic Rust if you flutter your wings and wave your credits." Skywarp winked at Wheeljack. "Drink?"

"I'm not big on high grade that's named after horrible diseases," said Wheeljack.

"He doesn't drink around me," said Starscream, in a discreet whisper-shout. "Otherwise his desire would overwhelm his processor and he'd be fragging me over the table right now."

"Oh yeah?" Skywarp grinned and poured Wheeljack a glass. "Sounds good to me!"

Wheeljack prodded the glass away. "That's not why—”

Starscream gasped in what Wheeljack hoped was mock offense. "Are you calling me unattractive? Are you saying desire _doesn't_ overwhelm you whenever you look at me?"

Wheeljack couldn't think of the right answer to that question, so he reached over and pinched Starscream's left aileron instead. Starscream yelped and kicked Wheeljack in the knee. Thundercracker had to save the pitcher from spilling.

"You two are cute." Skywarp beamed, his chin cupped in his hands. "With your banter, and your footwork, and your matching accessories..."

Wheeljack glanced down at the silver medal Starscream had refused to let him take off. "You have one too."

"And I'm cute!" exclaimed Skywarp. "And so is TC! Hey, hey, we should do this next season, this should be a _tradition_."

Starscream giggled, startling Wheeljack. Starscream never giggled, he either cackled or smirked. The giggling made him sound younger, more carefree. 

Wheeljack looked over at happy, relaxed Starscream and was very nearly overwhelmed by desire. Starscream looked back, and his optics dimmed from crimson to garnet. His thruster brushed Wheeljack's plating again, more gently this time, stroking up and down.

"Are you really gonna do it?" asked Skywarp. "Right here? I bet if we give the bartender a _really_ big tip she'd let you."

"Gross," said Thundercracker, more than half-serious. "Get a room."

"We have a room," murmured Starscream. "Back at the hotel..."

Wheeljack could follow instructions when he got them. He felt almost giddy with relief at being _wanted_ , which was why he picked up the glass Skywarp had poured him and knocked it back, only wheezing a little as the high grade hit his tank. "Ready to go when you are."

\--- 

The transport ride back to the hotel was just long enough for the high grade to start jamming Wheeljack's motor functions. Starscream had lost track of his limbs halfway back to the hotel, and was currently propped against the wall. Wheeljack fumbled the keycard, listening to Starscream stifle giggles.

"You're drunk," pronounced Starscream, too loud for the hallway this late at night.

"I had one drink," said Wheeljack, and put the keycard in the wrong way round.

"From the pitcher of doom," said Starscream, and giggled again. "I watched Skywarp order one. Twenty-six kinds of high grade."

Wheeljack flipped the card, and the door clicked open at last. "I like your laugh."

Starscream _glowed_ , his smile surprised and delighted. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's cute." Wheeljack guided Starscream into the room, nearly tripping over the fencing equipment they'd left scattered across the floor.

"It's not grating?" prodded Starscream. "Or inane? Or—”

"It's cute." Wheeljack finally made it to one of the two small berths and toppled Starscream into it. "You're cute."

Starscream looked up at him, so open and wanting, and Wheeljack couldn't help but sit down next to him on the berth, like Starscream was a magnet drawing him in. Maybe it went both ways—Starscream twisted and squirmed until he could settle his helm on Wheeljack's thigh.

"I like this." Starscream reached up to flick the medal Wheeljack was still wearing. "It suits you. Us."

"Uhuh." Wheeljack glanced down at their matching medals. "Aren't you mad?"

"Mad?" Starscream frowned and cycled his optics, like he was having trouble focusing. "Why?"

"They're not gold," said Wheeljack. "I wanted to get gold for you."

"Oh." Starscream screwed up his face. "You should've let me fence the whole final."

"I just thought—”

"No." Starscream reached up, swatting his hand against Wheeljack's mask. "No, I'm in a _good_ mood right now. Good mood. Did you see me guard-punch Megatron?"

Primus, had Wheeljack seen it. "It was pretty great."

Starscream giggled again, and rolled upright, squirming into Wheeljack's lap. "I'm gonna regret it tomorrow. I'm going to feel like a bad person."

"You're a good person." Wheeljack's hands cupped Starscream's aft, supporting him as Starscream pressed a kiss against Wheeljack's mask.

Starscream hummed, in the way that meant he really was pleased. "We should connect."

"I don't—” began Wheeljack, and Starscream pulled away, fast enough he nearly fell off the berth. Wheeljack managed to yank him back, but Starscream didn't settle back against Wheeljack's plating, just stared at him with betrayed optics. 

"You said I was cute," whined Starscream.

"You are." Wheeljack cupped Starscream's cheeks, which made him look even cuter. "You're also drunk."

Starscream scowled. Adorably. “I’m not drunk.”

“How many drinks did you have?” Wheeljack brushed his thumbs over Starscream’s lips. “Two from the first pitcher, three from the second, and then Thundercracker bought a round of cocktails—"

“Excuses.” Starscream’s tongue flicked against Wheeljack’s thumb. “I want you.”

"We can connect when you're sober," offered Wheeljack.

"So you _claim_." Starscream pried Wheeljack's hands away. "You never follow through."

"We tried once and you hated it," said Wheeljack. "If you'd talk to me, maybe we could—”

Starscream put his hand over Wheeljack's mask, covering rather than swatting this time. "It's unfair to argue with me when I'm drunk."

"Oh, _now_ you're drunk," said Wheeljack, unimpeded by the hand.

"I never said—” Starscream sighed, and snapped open his panel. He didn't transform his array, so it was just his bare components rubbing against Wheeljack's thigh, building up static.

Wheeljack's voicebox didn't online properly the first time. The second time it just made clicking noises. Starscream smirked at him and continued to rock his hips.

"Why don't you tell me how you want it?" asked Wheeljack, almost desperate. 

"Hmm." Starscream looped one arm around Wheeljack's neck, then used the leverage to lean back and display his array. "Will you touch me?"

"I'll watch you touch yourself," compromised Wheeljack. "And then I can touch you properly next time, when you're—”

"Sober, I get it." Starscream transformed his array, then slid his hand over his plug. His optics dimmed, and his mouth twisted briefly before his expression smoothed out again. "I like going _gentle_." Starscream's voice lilted as he carefully felt his own prongs. "And _slow_. It always has to be a reciprocal connection, it just feels _better_ that way. When it's with someone you love it's _always_ good, Jackie, you just plug into each other and feel the positive energy coursing through you."

Wheeljack flicked Starscream's wing. "Stop making fun of me."

Starscream's optics lit. "I'm not!"

"Tell me what you really like." Wheeljack flicked the other wing. "Do you like touching plugs? Or getting your tongue shocked? Should I go out and buy some capacitors? What about alt mode stuff? If you're into fueling, you can transform right here and I'll go find an energon barrel and a hose—”

"No!" Starscream was giggling again, bent forward so he could press his face against Wheeljack's neck. "No, I'm a _good_ mech, I don't want you messing around with my alt mode. I like _good_ sex."

Wheeljack finally felt like he was getting somewhere. "Then tell me about the bad sex."

Starscream stilled. "What?"

"The kind you don't like," said Wheeljack. "Tell me about the sex bad mechs have."

Starscream didn't say anything for a bit, just sat in Wheeljack's lap and vented. But then he hummed, and Wheeljack knew it would be all right. He'd finally found the way forward.

" _Bad_ mechs like being pinned down," said Starscream, slowly, his face still hidden. "But they don't just lie there and take it, that would be too easy. They make you fight for it. They scratch and bite, and when you get them on the berth with your knees on their wings they're still trying to throw you off. But when you reach back to feel their array cover, it's already open for you, you can pinch the prongs between your fingers and _twist_ until they nearly break, until they're begging you to connect."

Starscream's hand slid between their frames, and Wheeljack wondered if he was twisting his own prongs. Or if he was playing with his socket, if his talons were thin enough to fit into the neat little holes. Their medals clinked together as Starscream rocked his hips, blue light from his array reflecting on Wheeljack's plating. Wheeljack's internals were buzzing with ungrounded charge.

"And," murmured Starscream, "and you'll keep teasing me for a long time, until the charge starts to short out my systems, until you finally take pity and straddle my hips and ride my plug. No reciprocal connection, you'll tell me I haven't earned that yet. You'll just keep taking the charge without giving any back, opening and closing the connection as much as you want until I feel like I'm empty and bursting at the same time."

Wheeljack rubbed his thumbs over Starscream's hips, steadying Starscream as he chased the phantom connection. "That's it." He pressed a kiss to the side of Starscream's helm. "Tell me what you want."

"You!" Starscream's voice started to climb in volume and pitch. "Oh, Primus, I want you _so_ much. I want you to hold me down and make me take it, I, I, _Megatron_ —”

Wheeljack couldn't help it, his hands tightened on Starscream's hips. Starscream froze, and then every vent in his back opened and blew hot air, like he was trying to dump his arousal all at once.

"Starscream?" said Wheeljack, feeling his own arousal curdle and go cold.

Starscream flinched and twisted away. Wheeljack had to catch him again, and guide him into falling to the berth instead of the floor. Once there, Starscream put his hands over his face and closed his panel. He didn't say anything else.

"Do you want me to go?" Wheeljack looked down at the red and black paint transfers on his thigh. "I can—”

Starscream was shaking his head. And his vents weren't slowing down, even though he must be blowing cold by now. Wheeljack didn't know what to do.

Well, he never knew what to do. Trial and error. Wheeljack carefully laid down next to Starscream, curling a little to avoid putting pressure on Starscream's wing. He put his arm over Starscream's waist, and pressed his mask to Starscream's cheek. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I'm right here."

Apparently that was the right thing, or close enough to it. Starscream took a shuddering breath, and then another, and his vents slowly calmed.

Wheeljack watched Starscream for a long time, waiting for Starscream to say something. But Starscream just lay there, his hands covering his face and his processor whirring busily. Eventually, helpless and exhausted and very slightly drunk, Wheeljack fell into recharge.

When he woke the next morning Starscream was already gone.

Wheeljack opened his comm and closed it about seven times before he gave up and picked someone else off his contact list.

 **Wheeljack** : do you think i’m a bad mech?

 **Sideswipe** : What did Screamer ask u 2 do?

 **Wheeljack** : just answer the question. i don’t want to fight right now

 **Sideswipe** : Ur a great mech Jackie. Dont let him get u down

Wheeljack closed the comm, feeling about a million times worse.

\---

Everything seemed fine during the tournament. Starscream was as bright and as passionate and as sharp as usual. He'd taken the packet of energon jellies Wheeljack had left out for him and probably, hopefully eaten them. He didn't look out at the crowd, searching for someone and wary of finding him.

And Waspinator won lower-division sabre, so that was good too.

But Starscream shook hands with Megatron after the final. Shook _hands_ , like the mech deserved that kind of respect. When Megatron was everything that had gone wrong in the Decepticons, everything that had gone wrong with fencing. Everything that had gone wrong in Starscream's life.

Wheeljack thought of Starscream brokenly calling out Megatron's name, Starscream talking about the kind of sex bad mechs have. He felt a flash of revulsion and had to look away from Megatron as the mech stalked back to his team.

Starscream's wing brushed against Wheeljack's shoulder, and Wheeljack forced himself to look calm.

"You okay, babe?" asked Wheeljack. "You know you don't need to talk to Megatron if you don't want to."

"It's fine." Starscream hesitated, then took a step closer. "We talked this morning," he murmured. "I think we understand each other now."

The revulsion returned, and Wheeljack's calm facade must have cracked. Starscream took a step back, his wings jerking up and his mouth twisting into that awful familiar expression.

"Starscream!" Windblade had finally set Waspinator back down from the hug she'd swept him up in as soon as he'd finished shaking hands. "Wheeljack, we're going to a bar! Waspinator needs to celebrate!"

"How nice." Starscream turned away and directed a smile at Waspinator. "We get so few opportunities, after all."

So they went to a bar. A slightly less classy one than the night before, with a younger clientele and bad shard-pop blaring through the speakers. Wheeljack didn't feel much in the mood to talk, so he sat on a stool and watched Starscream chat and smirk and occasionally dart searching, wary glances back at Wheeljack.

After a couple joors Wheeljack finished his spritzer and found himself longing for something stronger. Time to go, then. He got off the stool and caught Starscream looking at him again.

"Hey." He bridged the distance and touched Starscream's shoulder. "You want to get out of here?"

"What?" Starscream glanced around the bar, optics wide. "And leave Waspinator's victory party? What if he never gets another one?"

"Don't be mean." Wheeljack couldn't help smiling with his optics anyway, glad to hear Starscream sounding like himself. "Come on, I want to talk."

Starscream's expression froze, and his wings flicked up and down. Wheeljack didn't know what he should do, so he reached out and took Starscream's hand. Starscream clutched at him like a lifeline. Wheeljack felt a little fizz of relief—he'd guessed right again. They'd be okay.

Waspinator waved at them as they left the bar. He was playing mini-cube, with Windblade on his team and Breakdown and Knock Out on the other. Chromia was refereeing, which seemed to involve grabbing the cube at random intervals and holding it hostage until someone bought her a new drink. Wheeljack watched Starscream flicker a smile at them, shouting something only half-audible about Stageflight fencing tomorrow.

The night outside was cool and flavored with those odd freon fumes that plagued Praxus. Wheeljack took a deep breath, trying to decide how to say what needed to be said. How to ask about Megatron, and about what Starscream wanted. How to tell Starscream how much he cared about him.

"You can stay at the club as long as you want to," said Starscream. "You don't have to worry about your job, or _retaliation_ , or—”

"Woah, hold on." Wheeljack's spark abruptly felt like it was burning out. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Starscream stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. Then his optics narrowed and his jaw clamped with fury. "Is that what you want? I can be the bad guy for you, I'm sure everyone would find that very believable."

" _No_." Wheeljack stepped forward, and Starscream stepped back. He was trying to tug his hand away, and reluctantly Wheeljack let him. "Starscream, listen to me a second. If you want me gone, I'll go. But I want this to work."

Starscream looked away and crossed his arms. "It's not going to."

"Only if we stop trying." Wheeljack leaned to the side, trying to catch Starscream's optics. "I meant it when I said I want to talk. I want to understand what Megatron did to you. I want to know what you _want_ from—”

"Frag off." Starscream glared, and his wings flared even as his shoulders curled forward. "Megatron is none of your business. I want—I just want normal things. I liked what we were doing before."

"No, you didn't." Wheeljack knew what Starscream looked like when he was enjoying something, and 'bored but tolerant and occasionally mildly ill' wasn't it. "Why won't you trust me?"

"Why won't you _listen_ to me?" snapped Starscream. "I'm telling you, I'm happy!"

Wheeljack couldn't help flinching back as the high-pitched edge of Starscream's voice grated in his audials. Starscream stared at him for half a klik, hands balled into fists where they were tucked into his arms. Then he whirled away and took a running jump into the air, transforming into a vertical takeoff that scorched the pavement. Wheeljack watched, caught between appreciation and misery. Starscream was beautiful. Wheeljack didn't want him to leave.

Wheeljack's comm pinged, and he opened the connection with desperate gratitude.

 **Starscream:** You can have the room tonight.

 **Wheeljack:** where are you going to stay?

**This user has blocked your frequency.**

**Wheeljack:** starscream come on

**This user has blocked your frequency.**

There was a bench nearby. Wheeljack sat down and put his helm in his hands. He could drive to the hotel. Or he could go back to the bar. He wasn't going to be around Starscream tonight, or maybe ever again. It would be fine to have a couple five drinks.

Wheeljack sat there for a long time, not deciding. After a while, his comm pinged again.

It wasn't Starscream. It wasn’t Sideswipe either. Wheeljack ignored it for a few kliks, but eventually the pinging got annoying and he opened the connection just to make it stop.

 **Skywarp:** hey Loser

 **Wheeljack:** what

 **Skywarp:** ping me your location

 **Wheeljack:** starscream's not with me

 **Skywarp:** yeah Gearshaft i know

 **Skywarp:** ping me your location we're getting Drinks

\---

Skywarp practically dragged Wheeljack into an all-night restaurant and shoved him into a booth. There was a cocktail menu, but Skywarp took one look at Wheeljack and ordered warmed energon for them both.

"Starscream's fine," said Skywarp, once the wait-drone had departed. "He's holed up in my hotel room with TC, yelling about you and Megatron and about fifty other things."

Wheeljack leaned back against the bench seat, trying to kick his processor back into gear.

"He thinks you're going to quit, and break up with him, _and_ pick a fight with Megatron for his honor, or something." Skywarp cocked his helm. "Didn't make a lot of sense. Figured I'd look you up and see if I needed to help you or break your knees. What do you think?"

Wheeljack asked the first thing that popped into his head. "Has Starscream ever connected with anyone besides Megatron?" 

Skywarp cycled his optics. Then he held up a finger, his expression distant. Then he winced.

"I shouldn't—” said Wheeljack.

"Nah," agreed Skywarp. "But I just commed Starscream and he said I should tell you, and I quote 'whatever the frag that bleeding spark wants.' And then he blocked me."

"Me too," muttered Wheeljack.

"It probably won't last." Skywarp patted Wheeljack's hand. "I think the longest I've ever been blocked was half a season, and that's because I beat Starscream at a planetary qualifier. Threatening to break up with him isn't nearly as bad."

"I don't want to break up with him."

"Why?" asked Skywarp, bluntly. "Starscream's not exactly conjunx material."

"He deserves to have something good," said Wheeljack. "I want to be good for him."

"Savior complex, got it." Skywarp nodded. "No wonder it's a disaster."

"It's not—” said Wheeljack, too loud, but then the wait-drone wobbled over to drop off their energon. Wheeljack had lost his conviction by the time it was gone. It probably was a disaster.

"Why do _you_ like _Starscream_ ," said Skywarp, slowly, like he was talking to a half-coded AI. "Why do you want to be with him?"

Wheeljack thought hard. He came up with a couple answers that started with 'Starscream needs' but he was pretty sure saying them would get him kicked.

"He's clever," he said at last. "And brave. He doesn't let anyone push him around."

"That's the most generic thing I've ever heard." Skywarp dumped most of a canister of mercury into his energon. "At least try to convince me."

"He's the most genuine mech I've ever met," offered Wheeljack.

That caught Skywarp's attention. "Starscream? Genuine?"

"I know exactly what he wants, and exactly how much he's willing to do to get it." Wheeljack smiled to himself, thinking about Starscream in that office on the day he'd been hired, the naked hunger in Starscream's optics. Then he thought about Starscream sitting listlessly in Wheeljack’s lap while he waited for Wheeljack to connect. Starscream worked up and riding Wheeljack’s thigh, calling out Megatron's name. "Except—”

"Yeah, yeah, you're both so hung up on sex." Skywarp sighed and sipped his horrible murky energon.

"He won't tell me what he wants from connecting," said Wheeljack. "Not really."

Skywarp laughed. "Never had that problem before. _Skywarp, hold me down! Skywarp, tie my hands! Skywarp, get your lazy aft over here and spank me!_ "

Wheeljack felt his finials flickering and heat rushing through his vents. Skywarp laughed again at his expression.

"We fragged for about a quartex," he said. "Until Thundercracker made a fuss about the walls, and the couch, and the kitchen... basically said we couldn't be roommates unless we quit defiling the common areas. So we quit altogether." Skywarp looked a little wistful. "Starscream was moving on to bigger and better things, he was ready. Bigger mechs, anyway."

"That's what Starscream likes?" asked Wheeljack, feeling both embarrassed and hungry for information. "Even before, uh—”

"I _think_ I was Starscream's first," said Skywarp. "He had a thing with some big shuttle when he was still trying to be a scientist, but it sounded like kid's stuff. Lots of hand-holding and late-night study sessions. That was Starscream's nice relationship." Skywarp winked. "I was the dirty one."

Starscream had found himself with Skywarp, then. He'd found out he liked rough handling, and he liked playing with force, and then he'd met Megatron, and all of those games had gotten twisted up into the pain Wheeljack could still see in Starscream's optics.

"You look like you're gonna be sick," said Skywarp. "Come on, it's not _that_ bad. Two seekers in a berth is pretty hot."

"It's just," Wheeljack swallowed against the uneasiness in his tank. "Megatron—”

Skywarp made a tsking noise and waved his finger in front of Wheeljack's mask. "Not your business."

"But—”

"No." Skywarp scowled. "You're with Starscream, right? He had a life before he met Megatron. He fenced before he met Megatron. He had problems and bad habits and weird hang-ups before Megatron. He's his own mech. I don't know everything that happened with Megatron—”

"He—”

“—And I don't need to hear what you think you know." Skywarp pursed his lips. "Anyway, you're just proving my point. If you're spending all your time wondering what Starscream wants, you're never getting what _you_ need."

Wheeljack stared.

"You can talk," said Skywarp, generously.

Wheeljack didn't know what to say. He sipped his energon instead, even though it was bitter and lukewarm.

\---

Starscream unblocked Wheeljack the next orn, but they were too busy with coaching the last few events of the tournament to talk. Starscream was pointedly busy, in fact, hustling Stageflight along whenever Wheeljack even looked their direction.

Wheeljack sent him a few pings. Starscream pinged back. Wheeljack felt like that was progress.

He graduated to sending comms during the trip home, when Starscream was flying himself back to Iacon while Wheeljack was crammed in a shuttle with a couple hundred other grounders.

 **Wheeljack:** good weather?

 **Starscream:** No. It's raining. I hate acid.

 **Wheeljack:** make sure to clean off when you get back then

 **Starscream:** Mhm.

Progress. Small steps. 

Wheeljack didn't _want_ small.

Wheeljack didn't really know how to do relationships. Trial and error wasn't working.

Wheeljack leaned back in his cramped seat and turned the problem over in his processor. What did he want? How could he get it?

He'd been flailing around all this time, that was the real obstacle. He'd made plans without knowing what his goal was.

Wheeljack tried thinking like a fencer instead.

\---

It was painful, running class and giving lessons for joors and joors while Wheeljack knew what was in his subspace. But finally the last of the youth fencers were out the door, and it was just Windblade and the other adult fencers hanging around and free fencing. Rattrap had snuck off ages ago, and Starscream was in his office with his thrusters kicked up on his desk, doing the very important work of filing his talons into sharp little points.

Wheeljack knocked. Starscream made a grunting noise which probably meant he should come in.

"Here." Wheeljack offered Starscream a datapad.

"More lesson plans?" Starscream sighed and set aside his talon file. "These keep getting more intricate. You can't plan for every contingency, the sparklings can't—”

He ground to a halt as he scrolled. Wheeljack waited patiently. Semi-patiently. He tried to force his foot to stop tapping, but it just made his hands shake instead.

"How many flowcharts did you make?" asked Starscream, at last.

"As many as I could think of." Wheeljack leaned over Starscream's shoulder. "Here, let me zoom it out."

Starscream stared at the massive number of options. "What do the colors mean?"

"Green means I prefer that action or outcome, and any red means that would be a hard stop for me." Wheeljack scratched his mask. "When I do this for fencing bouts green means my point and red means point to the opponent, but sex doesn't really have points, so—”

"You do this for fencing bouts?" Starscream scrolled, his expression a mixture of awe and horror.

"This is actually shorter than the flowchart I made for our practice bouts before the tournament," said Wheeljack. "I had to update that one five times, you kept surprising me."

Starscream looked up at Wheeljack, optics glowing. Wheeljack wanted very badly to kiss him, but he still wasn't sure if this was going to work so he offered Starscream a lightpen instead. "I figured you could add some colors. Tell me what you like."

Starscream took the pen. Wheeljack waited, just in case Starscream was going to say anything, but nope. He just looked down at the datapad, already gnawing on Wheeljack's formerly pristine pen.

"Okay, I'm just gonna," Wheeljack glanced away, through the window out to the gym floor. "Do some footwork? I guess?"

Starscream nodded absently. Wheeljack went.

He did the footwork, too. Two steps forward, one step back, all the way down the strip. Two steps back, one step forward, all the way back. It was meditative. Calm. What was he going to do if Starscream didn't like any of the options?

Chromia yelled something at Knock Out, and Windblade laughed. Breakdown and Waspinator were doing a parry drill. Wheeljack's processor was going to melt. He glanced at Starscream's office, where Starscream had his helm in his hands and the datapad shoved away.

Wheeljack found himself at the office door again. "Starscream?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" asked Starscream, just audible through the door. Wheeljack took that as an invitation, coming in and shutting the office behind him.

"I'm just trying to help," he said, feeling worse than a sparkeater.

"I don't know what you want me to choose," said Starscream, plaintively. "You don't like it when I try to be good for you, and I know you don't want to be rough, and I can't—”

"Wait, wait." Wheeljack held up a hand. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't want to be like Megatron." Starscream's optics cycled. "You told me, when we first, um. Kissed."

"Right, but,” Wheeljack picked up the datapad. "Look, this is everything. Everything I can think of. Everything I want with _you_. Nothing to do with Megatron, one way or the other."

Starscream's mouth twisted, and for an astrosecond Wheeljack thought he was going to argue. But then Starscream took the datapad and scrolled through it again.

"Even this?" Starscream tapped a pathway with one talon. "You'd do this?"

Wheeljack looked at it. He'd added that pathway out of a sense of thoroughness—there were plenty of things Wheeljack wanted, including things he didn't think Starscream would like. "Sure," he said. "As long as it won't bring up any bad memories, or—”

"Ah, ah, ah." Starscream waved a hand. "Forget that. You said nothing to do with Megatron. You'd do _this_ with _me_?"

"I think it would be hot," said Wheeljack, a little helplessly. Unsure if he was digging himself into a hole.

Starscream's expression didn't change, but Wheeljack thought he could hear a little humming noise. Oh, thank Primus. "Really?"

"As long as we let each other know if it's too much." Wheeljack took the datapad back and scrolled down the path, noting a few places he'd marked as hard stops. "And I'm not actually sure if I can pick you up."

Starscream stood up. "We should find out."

"Sure, do you want to come over tomorrow, or—”

"I'm free now," Starscream rounded the desk and stepped right into Wheeljack's space, his hand hovering at Wheeljack's elbow. "You?"

Wheeljack nodded, and then clutched the datapad as Starscream pulled him out of the office and past the lingering fencers.

"Windblade," called Starscream, "lock up when you're done."

"Wazzpinator hazz key," said Waspinator.

"Whatever." Starscream tugged Wheeljack out the door.

"Where are we going?" Wheeljack's apartment was a mess, and this path required a big open space he didn't have. Wheeljack hadn't really considered logistics when he was putting together the flowcharts. To be honest, he'd composed most of the flowcharts with an extension cord connecting his plug to his socket, judging how much he liked an idea by how much his charge surged when he thought of it.

"My place." Starscream gestured at the apartment block across the street from Metroplex.

"You live _there_?" Wheeljack glanced between the buildings, measuring out Starscream's apparently five-klik commute. "That's—”

"An unhealthy lack of separation, I know, Thundercracker's _said_." Starscream scowled. "I don't know why I'd want to fly halfway across Iacon every day. But I have lots of space."

"Last time I asked you to cover a class," said Wheeljack, "you said there was too much traffic and you couldn't make it."

"Oh." Starscream bit his lip.

"Oh?" prompted Wheeljack.

"I'm thinking." They'd reached the apartments, and Starscream tapped in a code to open the entryway.

"You could say sorry," suggested Wheeljack.

Starscream laughed. "Please, I can come up with a better lie than _that_."

There was an empty elevator. Starscream pulled Wheeljack inside and hit the button for the top floor. The door slid shut. Wheeljack tucked the datapad back in his subspace and started the flowchart.

Starscream yelped as Wheeljack picked him up, his hands on Starscream's upper thighs and aft. Starscream's wings hit the wall of the elevator and braced him, which was good since Starscream was already taller than Wheeljack and Wheeljack had seriously underestimated how heavy he was.

He'd picked Starscream up, though. Score one for Wheeljack.

"Give me your best try," murmured Wheeljack, his arms straining to keep Starscream up.

"My next-door neighbor went into spark failure." Starscream didn't even miss a beat. "My whole hall was cordoned off, and there were five medics and an enforcer running through. I didn't want to disrupt them by leaving just to cover a class. A mech was _dying_ , Wheeljack."

Wheeljack's processor slipped a gear. "Slagging Primus, really?"

Starscream's smile could have lit every scorebox in the coliseum. " _Please_." He wrapped his long fingers around the back of Wheeljack's helm, and leaned down to kiss—

The elevator dinged, but they were only halfway up the building. Wheeljack reached blindly for the door close button, and Starscream nearly fell before he managed to catch himself on one foot.

"Uh," said someone outside. Wheeljack smacked a button, hopefully the right button. Starscream made a rude gesture at the hall. The doors started to close, and Starscream shoved off his newfound leverage, sending Wheeljack tripping backwards into the opposite wall. Wheeljack glimpsed a scandalized elderly two-wheeler through the narrowing gap in the doors before Starscream mashed their faces together, his fangs teasing the edge of Wheeljack's mask.

Wheeljack tried to pick Starscream up again, but he couldn't get a good grip without the wall to help him. He tried to slip away instead, but Starscream was still crowding him, his talons sliding into Wheeljack's seams, scraping against Wheeljack's wires. The elevator dinged again. It must have been the right floor, because Starscream got out, pulling Wheeljack by the windshield instead of the arm this time. He had to turn away to input his door code, and Wheeljack took the opportunity to grab Starscream's wrist and _twist_.

Starscream tried to scratch and kick, but Wheeljack pushed forward and up until Starscream was flattened against the door with his arm jammed between his wings.

They were supposed to be inside by now. They were supposed to have _started_ this whole shoving match inside. It was supposed to culminate with wrestling/fragging on the floor, and Wheeljack definitely wasn't going to do that in the hall. Wheeljack could be, should be more patient than this.

"Get us in," he murmured, in Starscream's audial.

"Let go," hissed Starscream, his whole frame tensed.

Wheeljack hitched Starscream's arm up a little, putting a little more stress on the shoulder. Starscream trembled, his free hand flexing against the door. Wheeljack almost relented, but at the last moment he remembered that he was trusting Starscream. He was trusting Starscream to know what he wanted.

He pressed Starscream harder into the door, listening to Starscream’s talons scrape against the metal. It felt good, being so close to Starscream. Feeling Starscream’s plating heat from their revving engines. Wheeljack took a deep vent and—

"Red, red, hard stop." Starscream's helm thunked against the door as Wheeljack let go and stepped back. "Frag!"

"Thank you for stopping me," said Wheeljack, trying to calm his wildly recalibrating emotional unit. He'd messed this up _again_. "What should I do different?"

Starscream looked back at Wheeljack, optics wide. "What?"

"We can keep going, we just need to adjust." Wheeljack hoped, he really hoped they could keep going. "Back up a step. What should I do different?"

Starscream bit his lip and opened the door, stepping into the apartment. Wheeljack followed. There really was lots of space. There wasn't hardly any furniture in the main room, just a transformable futon couch and a pile of boxes in the corner.

"It was too tight," said Starscream, hesitantly. "I like this idea, I do, but maybe if it was looser—”

"Okay," said Wheeljack.

"Okay?" Starscream's optics narrowed.

"Give me your wrist," said Wheeljack. "We'll start over."

Starscream slowly offered his wrist. Wheeljack caught it, twisted it behind Starscream's back, careful to keep a looser grip, and shoved Starscream toward the wall. 

This time Starscream could yank his wrist away and turn them, pressing Wheeljack's back against the wall instead before dropping his hands to Wheeljack's thighs and easily picking Wheeljack up. His actuators didn't make a single sound.

"It's unfair that you're so strong," said Wheeljack, wrapping his legs around Starscream's waist.

"Oh, but I'm weak for you," said Starscream, and then giggled at his own joke. His awful, awful joke.

Wheeljack wrapped both of his hands around Starscream's helm to pull him into a kiss. And then, once Starscream was distracted, he pushed off his back and twisted his hips, and sent them crashing to the floor.

It felt good, having Starscream underneath him. It felt better, knowing he could trust Starscream to stop Wheeljack before he went too far.

\---

Eventually Wheeljack 'overpowered' Starscream, because that's what Starscream wanted. Eventually Wheeljack fragged Starscream on the floor, riding Starscream's face and feeling Starscream's tongue flatten wet and trembling against his socket, because Wheeljack had nearly blown his own circuits last night working on the flowchart and thinking about how good that would be. Eventually they laid on the futon together, and Wheeljack could wrap his arms around Starscream's waist and tuck his helm under Starscream's chin.

"Your processor is vibrating against my neck," muttered Starscream. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." Wheeljack stroked Starscream's side, trying to distract him.

Starscream grabbed Wheeljack's hand. "Tell me. Did you not like it? What did I do wrong this time?"

"Babe, no." Wheeljack squeezed Starscream's fingers. "It was perfect. You're perfect. I'm glad—” He cut his voice box before he could finish the sentence. He didn't need to bring this up.

"Tell me," demanded Starscream.

"I'm just glad you kept going, after the stop. I'm glad he didn't ruin this for you."

Starscream _chuckled_ , his chassis buzzing against Wheeljack's helm. "Are you worried saying 'Megatron' will make him appear in my apartment? I promise he's not telepathic."

"I just don't want to bring up bad memories for you," said Wheeljack.

"Yes, you keep saying." Starscream sighed. "I'm going to be honest with you—”

Wheeljack couldn't help the noise he made. Something like a surprised snigger-snort.

Starscream pinched Wheeljack's audial, lightly. "Shut up, I'm feeling generous. Anyway, as I was _saying_ , I stopped because I was worried about hurting you. I couldn't get out of the pin easily, and the only thing I could think of was throwing my helm back, seeing what I could break. You let yourself get too close to me."

"Oh." Wheeljack replayed the moment before the stop. He'd been leaning into Starscream's audial. One twist of Starscream's head could have shattered both of Wheeljack's optics. "Thanks for stopping."

"I wouldn't have stopped, with Megatron." Starscream's talons tapped against Wheeljack's back. "We'd leave pieces of armor all over his apartment. I'd have energon on my hands. Thundercracker banned us from fragging at our place after we broke a solvent pipe in the washracks and flooded it, but Megatron's housemates didn't especially care what we did. I think we went through three different berths in the first season we were together."

"Thundercracker should've—” began Wheeljack, but Starscream flicked the back of his helm.

"Leave Thundercracker alone. I didn't need rescuing, not then. Pit, Megatron probably needed rescuing from me."

Wheeljack couldn’t hide his skepticism, so he didn’t try.

"I mean it," Starscream coaxed Wheeljack up, holding Wheeljack's face between his hands. "It's very... affirming. The way you blame Megatron for everything that went wrong. But if you're going to be with me, you need to be realistic. You need to realize I'm not a good mech, not like you."

Wheeljack put both hands over Starscream's mouth. "'Good mech’ is a meaningless standard. And even if I was going to hold you to it, you'd be fine. I see you putting in the work. You're getting better all the time."

Starscream pulled Wheeljack's hands down. He was smiling. "That's what Megatron said, the last time I saw him. Fewer words, same sentiment."

"We're spending a lot of time talking about Megatron," said Wheeljack. He knew he was whining, but he wanted to. This was supposed to be their afterglow. "I thought he wasn't my business."

Starscream hummed. "I guess he is, just a little. I don't think I'll be able to stop thinking about him for a long time. Not until I have enough new memories to replace him."

"Alright." Wheeljack raised himself up on his elbows. "We can get started on the berth breaking now. Where is it?"

Silence. Starscream looked guilty.

"Have you been sleeping on this futon?" asked Wheeljack.

"It transforms out," said Starscream.

"Is this all of your furniture?" Wheeljack glanced around at the boxes and the bare walls. "When did you move in?"

"Last season," muttered Starscream.

" _Last season_." Wheeljack dropped back down, thunking his head against Starscream's cockpit. "Do you have any chairs?"

"The futon is very versatile," said Starscream, and pinched Wheeljack's audial again when Wheeljack laughed. "Fine, fine, I'll get chairs. All the chairs you want, stop mocking me."

"I love you," said Wheeljack. He knew it was too early, but he couldn't help it. Starscream had been sleeping on a _futon_. Was there even a berthroom in this apartment?

"Oh."

Wheeljack looked up. Starscream mouth was twisted, and his optics were wide with terror. "What's that look about?"

"I don't know." Starscream put his hand over his face. "I don't know if I'm supposed to say it back."

"I think we can stop worrying about 'supposed to.'" Wheeljack put his hand over Starscream's, twining their fingers together. "Except for the chairs, and the berth. You're supposed to have a real berth."

"I get it." Starscream lifted their hands, and he was smiling. Just a little. Just enough. "You can help me pick one out tomorrow."

\---

 **Wheeljack** : hey so i hated being an autobot and the war with the decepticons almost ruined fencing for me

 **Sideswipe** : Ok?

 **Wheeljack** : i just wanted you to know

 **Wheeljack** : i really miss being friends with you but i guess i realized that we’re never going to be close again

 **Sideswipe** : Woah woah woah!

 **Wheeljack** i know you still miss it. i don’t feel like we get each other anymore

 **Sideswipe** : Look ofc I miss being young and kicking aft

 **Sideswipe** : But its

 **Sideswipe** : …

 **Sideswipe** : Its complicated

 **Sideswipe** : Can we talk sometime? Face 2 face. U can bring ur sweetspark if u want

 **Wheeljack** : why?

 **Sideswipe** : Bc I think Screamer does get it. As much as I dont like him

 **Sideswipe** : And I can tell YOU like him a lot

 **Wheeljack** : …yeah. yeah, i’ll ask him

 **Wheeljack** : thanks for fhoasgbndlkfknbasjksdfjs

 **Sidewsipe** : ???????

 **Wheeljack** : sdjdhk

 **Sideswipe** : Are u glitching????

 **Wheeljack** : sorry sorry Starscream just woke up

 **Wheeljack** : i uh

 **Wheeljack** : i need to go

 **Sideswipe** : Please dont give me any details

 **Wheeljack** : oh you want details?

 **Sidewswipe** : No

 **Wheeljack** : oh slag sideswipe he’s got magnets

 **Wheeljack** : don’t you have a thing for magnets?

 **Wheeljack** : sideswipe this magnet is the size of your helm i can’t believe it

 **Wheeljack** : ohhhh starscream i looove you, you’re soooo much better at fragging than sideswipe—

**This user has blocked your frequency.**

That was fine. Wheeljack could catch up with Sideswipe later.

“What’s that look about?” murmured Starscream. His talons were still teasing around Wheeljack’s socket, flirting with the idea of dipping _in_.

“Just happy,” said Wheeljack, and pressed a kiss to the top of Starscream’s helm. “I really feel like this is gonna work out.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, consider sharing it on [Tumblr](https://neveralarch.tumblr.com/post/185642900614/allez-neveralarch-the-transformers-idw), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/neveralarch/status/1140408984043700226), or [DW](https://neveralarch.dreamwidth.org/100766.html).


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